


Do, Re, Mi, I Still Think About You

by monmonggie



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pianist, Angst, Coping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Love at First Sight, M/M, Tags Contain Spoilers, True Love, kiho, pianist hoseok, tw: death, tw: terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 12:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18250277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monmonggie/pseuds/monmonggie
Summary: As he touches a tile, he imagines touching him, recalling those raw real moments, where the stars span above their heads and the memories never faded.He remembers the sunny warm days of sharing lips and mixing feelings, and those cold days where their hands touched and made their aching hearts feel a bit warmer.





	Do, Re, Mi, I Still Think About You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I admit I spent way too much time on it than needed for this length but I had a lot of fun (a-and pain) writing it. I hope you will enjoy!

The pitch black sight of the dark breaks with the flash of a light, followed by silence. An anticipating silence. The spotlight is centered on his figure. Then the chattering starts again, quieter. Every pair of eyes in the crowd is now laid on him closely, various cameras turned on and pointed towards his direction.  
He feels their gazes, filled with expectation, some with curiosity, or even amazement. All on him, only him. They're fixed on his slim body, preparing to examine every movement so clearly.

 

He feels them, and he would lie if he said he liked it, because suddenly it's as if every single one of those pairs of eyes is anticipating a future mistake. They all await the failure, seeing the worst side of him. He knows that every sense of expectation could quickly turn into a judgement-filled one. He feels so much, yet he chooses to ignore. As his melodies fill his mind, he chooses to wave those thoughts away, to not let them have control over his mind, even if it's only for once. All of them.

All, except for one. One who fidgets nervously in his seat, under the stage, but is the only one the black haired pianist pays attention to. His hand goes through his soft hair repetitively. The taps of his shaking legs, the steady breath he tries hard to regain. He hears it all. And he can picture his mind pacing, even more than his own. He can see the dimensions the other man travels to inside his thoughts, but just like his, turning into his calm place. It reminds him of the innocent moments they spent together as teenagers, when he played next to him, following every sound with the will to hear more.

Through the endless darkness, he blinks his eyes. He stretches his fingers over the cold tiles, fixing his posture. With his hands curved into their most perfect form, he leans forward.  
For a moment, their eyes lock, and even through the resting face the other struggles to wear, he senses the approval.  
A small smile forms on his lips. It's almost nonexistent, but it carries the exact genuineness and warmth that felt like home again.

When the silence finally overcomes the last chattered voices, he starts.

Sound, after sound. A note followed by another note, flowing in a continuous tune. One by one, turning the precious melody in his mind into reality. His fingers run over the piano, every note he hits joins into the piece he had created. His piece. Complete and ideal. His own ideal.  
His music carries an euphoric sensation that every person can feel radiating around him.  
Pleasant, yet sad. Each sound is soft and gentle, carrying the tenderness of a brief moment, but as a moment passes by, the sound fades like a spark of a treasured memory. It leaves a tender trace, a painful one.

Some people can feel the personal sensitivity he put into creating it. They may even feel like they are interrupting something, a forbidden experience. Maybe trespassing into a part of his mind they are not supposed to witness. Yet at the same time, it feels so true, the honest brutal naked truth of a person, the best side of them, and the involvement only makes you understand their perspective better, exactly like they want you to.

His music is painted with different shades of feelings. He felt blue, and then yellow. He felt pink, and sometimes red. He felt a lot, and he was never sure how much he wanted people to really see. At this moment, if a color was used to describe the sounds that were echoing within the walls, it would be deep purple, with slight hints of red. The perfect combination of dignity and sorrow, the calm stability of blue and the vibrant energy of red.

His melody. So enchanted.  
Almost magical.

His playing continues. He is focused on every movement he makes, letting the cold piano tiles lead the light touch followed by his gaze.  
When he closes his eyes, while he's deeply inside his world of tunes, he hears hums.  
They are quiet, like soft little sounds followed by his playing. They are for him, and he knows he's the only one who can hear them. They come out like a whisper, directing him.

He knows it's him.

Those hums, returning as sweet memories about sensing and capturing. As he touches a tile, he imagines touching him, recalling those raw real moments, where the stars span above their heads and the memories never faded.  
He remembers the sunny warm days of sharing lips and mixing feelings, and those cold days where their hands touched and made their aching hearts feel a bit warmer.

He remembers those nights, having him beside him, and underneath him. Cuddled up in his arms, or having his skin touch his. He likes the idea of the feeling of his lover's breath hitting his neck, and the harmonized small sounds he let him hear during their most personal moments. More pleasant than any note he hits while playing.

He likes reminiscing the sound of his beautiful voice, when he used to make random phrases and cute words, to join him and sing along while he practiced his playing. Those days his voice felt like the best kind of comfort, when they were young at heart, and the passion was stronger than ever. Just like this. Just like now,  
But realer.

The mere thought of him gives him strength, like a warm cup of coffee on a night with a sudden wave of inspiration hitting, but a bit less bitter and with more than two sugars and a cookie by its side. He was a source of energy that felt endless.

His muse.

He continues, now with the path leading to his final notes, sounding more intense and emotional than any previous one. As if this moment resembles the absolute climax of the thought that lingers, and everything feels so right.

 

When he finishes, a deep breath makes its way out of his mouth, with the relief of releasing the feelings he held back. They are taken over by freedom and a calming sensation that spreads through his body.  
The feeling of being his true self and finally showing his own world.

He bows, with the clapping sounds loud and clear for long moments, the sense of pride holds his heart and mind and he can feel the strong satisfaction hitting every single part of his body in waves.

 

His gaze catches with his. And it's sweet. And it's filled with love, when his shiny happy eyes meet with the other's teary happy eyes, because he is sure that even through his tear blurred vision, Kihyun can still see his brightest smile.

A smile for him.

When he meets him behind the stage, they share a kiss. One that holds pride and happiness and every single drop of adrenaline they have left in their bodies. Their hearts are racing, together with the feelings and words that were left unsaid and remained as plain looks.  
The concert was still going on, but Hoseok finished, and the both of them could only focus on the other's face.

“I'm so proud of you.” Kihyun says quietly. He smiles a familiar smile, one he makes that gives Hoseok the feeling his own heart was physically touched and shaken.  
“I'm happy you were here to listen to it.” Hoseok reflects the same smile. It holds every expression of their sense of intimacy and appreciation.

Kihyun caresses his cheek. They hold each other close, a known warmth makes a border between their gazes. When Hoseok looks into his lover's eyes, and sees the lost stars he fell for so deeply, his mind fades to the day he saw him for the first time. A treasured memory. That was when heart eyes met with star eyes, and for the first time some of the pain was replaced with excitement and fascination.

Not love at first sight, but heart eyes. That's the only term that is close enough to describe the first sight he had of him. Kihyun’s hair had a brighter shade of brown then, pulled back, reminding Hoseok of his favorite chocolate milkshake. He recalls looking at him for short moments, when his cheeks seemed so soft every time his face lit up in a smile and made the sun reflect it back at him.  
He had his heart eyes when he stepped into the music store, and the seller that greeted him had the joyful filled aura of strawberries and sugar and everything that's sweet.

He was the brightest person Hoseok had ever laid his eyes on, making it hard for him to let go of the thought of looking somewhere else beside the light on his face whenever it sparked.  
He fell for him, he fell so hard.

He had his heart eyes when he was playing quietly by the end store, soft hums and taps of a moving leg made their way towards his direction. The same familiar hums he had eventually grown so fond of, those who made their way from the suffocated small room to the deepest part of his heart.

 

That moment represented the time when he got to know his voice.  
His voice, his smile, and the magical aura that surrounded him.  
His voice, and the most beautiful heart that carried every true feeling in the world.

“Your playing is lovely.” The brown haired man flashed a smile, speaking softly beside him. Hoseok's heart did a fast flip, reminding him of the little child he still had in him. Shyly, he nodded and thanked him.  
“Your voice is lovely, too.”  
A short stop. The echo of a deep breath, with his eyes lighting in some sort of a sparkling excitement. Their gazes locked. Heart eyes met with star eyes, creating an infinite moment of a shiny spell.

“You can call me Kihyun.” He said, and his cheeks once again warmly reflected the sun, making the child in Hoseok awaken again, now with rosy cheeks of a first crush experience.  
This day carried the comfortable sense of light talks and chocolate milkshakes, and the promise to keep in touch, or see each other sometime, maybe soon, maybe later.

It was the start of something they both could feel at the first glance.

 

When he wanders in his thoughts, there's a hint of sadness in his eyes, which Kihyun can notice blindly. He squeezes his shoulder in comfort, knowing there isn't much he could do, even though there's nothing he wants more than it.  
Hoseok is already too deep inside his own world, far too much to let the warmth he remembers help him lead his way back into the present. All he can do is look at the past, seeking for it to fix a part in him he lost long enough ago.

 

He has all of their happy moments in front of his eyes.  
The first meetings, when neither of them could admit it was the love interest that joined them together in spontaneous meetings, until that one time Kihyun asked to take him out on an official date, and quickly neither turned into both, and the shared love interest wasn't much of a secret anymore.  
He can see every cake they shared, every moment of holding hands and spreading warmth, with the wind blowing and ruffling their hair.  
The sugar-like sweetness lingers on the tip of his tongue, as he squeezes Kihyun's shoulder back, holding the belief he still has this grip.

It is the most treasured memory of saying “I love you” for the first time he could never let go of. He remembers it clearly.  
When the sun set, and the sky started painting itself with darker hues. The cold weather went through his bones, as he watched Kihyun walking next to him. An oversized beige jacket that threatened to swallow him completely hung over his slim body, with his lips tinted in a darker shade than natural, one that was given by the winter breeze and the growing night's chill temperature.

Hoseok listened to Kihyun's quiet breaths. Slow. Calm. He followed their rhythm, synchronized with the sounds of his heartbeats.

It felt like something that happened so many times, when they smiled together and watched the cars go by, but they never grew tired of it, with the months passing by and the years slowly following them together with the feelings that became stronger.

Kihyun exhaled softly, looking at Hoseok for seconds before turning his head to glance at the sky once again,  
Lovestruck.  
He had that expression that made Hoseok want to cover his face with kisses, and so he did, earning small giggles and blush that was red as the tip of his cold nose, with every part of him turning cozier from inside.

“I like you a lot.” Kihyun said, intertwining their fingers to fit like two pieces of a complicated puzzle game. Hoseok filled with warmth. Familiar, but somewhat stronger, and even better. Like a strong aroma of the addicting scent of sweet vanilla.  
He looked at the older sincerely, gradually moving closer to him as their walk pace followed their rising joy.  
“I do too.” The older looked at him, scanning every feature of him in an admiring look, as if it was the first time he had seen him. He smiled at him, moving closer by his side just like him, spreading the warmth a bit further in his soul.

“I love you a lot.”

 

Once the concert ends, patiently waiting for Hoseok to finish talking to guests and high standards in the form of people in suits, Kihyun is busy shifting the weight from his right leg to the left that he gets trapped in his own little bubbly world.  
His eyes are glassy for some reason, as if the unspoken truth stings his heart repetitively in misery.

His presence is almost non-existent, but he keeps humming the same melody of the same song, trying to capture his weak heart, and maybe another one of a man who still looks at him with so much care and honesty.

When Hoseok comes back and takes his hand in his, they sit down one in front of the other, and the black haired pianist can't help but question the broken expression that catches his sight. There’s so much grief that takes over the beautiful face he loves so much. Worry and awareness make their way to his mind, when he quickly starts feeling the same.  
He softly moves his hand to brush his thumb against the skin of the younger man in front of him in an attempt of comfort, and quickly feels the other's hand on his. Fixing it in its place.

They don't talk. He tries hard not to look.  
It's not a comfortable silence, but it's neither a one he wants to break.  
He sees the words in his eyes without a single sound being heard, and his mouth grows dry together with his pair of glassy eyes in their make when he thinks about the end.

When Kihyun looks back at him, and their gazes lock, he can hear him saying “I'm sorry it cannot be real anymore.” It's the most faded touch, when he manages to pat the salty tear on his right cheek, with all the memories in Hoseok's mind carrying the same image of the past into a new moment of the present.

“Don't ever apologize.” Hoseok leans closer. He shushes him in a melting kiss. It's a feeling that is similar to a hot touch on lips cold from sorrow. Still unhappy.  
“You'll always be here with me.” He promises, as his own words start echoing in his mind. Pain fills his heart when it brings back the moments he tried to forget the most, like a key of an unopened box that was intentionally locked for a long term. Those memories suddenly crack open.

Of late nights he spent listening to whimpers of pain and cries of suffering, of brokenly trying to make him feel loved when he needed it the most. Of shut doors of saddening hospital buildings that switched and multiplied with every passing month of sickness, through endless cries for help. Those times he couldn't play or create and the only music he had was lost together with his muse and his star eyes that filled with pain.  
He didn’t want to think about them again.

Those empty lines in his composing book he kept staring at during the most lonely nights, and the empty side of the bed that lacked the sunny warm presence of his soulmate, whenever he couldn't stay beside him or see his brightness from up close.  
When his touch forgot how the warmth of the piano tiles felt, but his skin was mostly desperate to recall the touch of the one he needed the most.

He was so afraid of losing him.

Eyes full of tears, he sees them, the moment when he held his hand and felt the last pulses leaving his body while trying to convince himself they are still there with him, together with the sweet smile on his lips.

Seeing how peacefully rested he was despite having to sleep on the same hospital bed again, he was glad for a moment, smiling a small hurting smile to himself, when he was just remembering how they went out to the sun in the morning. Kihyun smiled at the birds and sang quietly. He looked so beautiful, his caramel hair looking like tender threads that glowed in the sun, and his face shone like it always would. He kept singing, despite the unpleasant pain that was threatening to grip. The mellow sounds mixed with the whistles of the morning wind in a pure beloved harmony.

Hoseok stood by the side, and for once, through the happiness, he mentally composed a melody to fit the beauty of those passing minutes, together with the sound of his lover's beautiful calming voice.  
He promised him he'll let him hear it echoing through the venue's walls, and another smile made its way to the younger's lips, taking Hoseok's heart to a missed journey of his teenager's feelings.

Capturing his smaller hand in his, this feeling lingered.  
He spent the time looking at him, seeing the same strong Kihyun he felt so happy he got to love. His soft expression made his heart soften with it, holding back from taking his lips in his.  
He didn’t want to intrude his quiescent.

He still couldn't sleep.

 

Hours later, when the rasping sound of the hospital heart monitor set down in one continuous evil tone, he couldn't grasp those happy moments anymore.

His mind is filled with the picture of the rushing doctors, and the feeling of being pushed roughly, then comforted by more figures that gradually became more blurry and distant, together with the true joy in his heart. He couldn't feel Kihyun’s stars anymore, and the tears that filled his eyes weren't more than blinding stinging last strings of hope.

It was about how he was there, and then fast enough about how he wasn't.  
The happy melody was now stained with sadness that echoed through the venue's walls.

But his heart couldn't be fixed anymore.

He didn't think it would hurt this bad.

 

Now, when he stands in in the break room, glazes a smile while talking to Kihyun. They are in one of their deep conversations, eyes all sparkling and loving from the sight and the thought of the other's laugh. The painful memories seem distant, but every time his hand reaches for his, it comes faintly in melancholic colors. The pain is present, and his heart is yet to heal, but he creates the most happy image of him.  
He smiles with him.

 

The others see an empty room, and a young beautiful pianist giggling softly to himself, with torn broken eyes that resemble stars and hearts and pain and true happiness, somewhat lost and still genuine.  
No one dares to interrupt, even those who hold some pity deep inside their hearts.

And it feels wrong.

But they are perfectly fine with it, because they are so happy, surrounded by every tip of joy they have ever felt. Hoseok is surrounded by his best moments and his most precious dream.  
Even if a bit bitter at times.

**Author's Note:**

> sweats


End file.
